


my muse

by dumbsoftie



Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: F/M, Floor Sex, I love Marvin, he is too eager for anything that's not on the floor, paterson just really loves you and you need to love him back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbsoftie/pseuds/dumbsoftie
Summary: The first time that you ride the bus, Paterson does a double take. His deep brown eyes are wide as he watches you enter his bus, and the only thing that he can think to do is clear his throat. It’s even a challenge to force himself to look back to the dashboard, and his large hands gripping the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to steady himself.





	my muse

The first time that you ride the bus, Paterson does a double take. His deep brown eyes are wide as he watches you enter his bus, and the only thing that he can think to do is clear his throat. It’s even a challenge to force himself to look back to the dashboard, and his large hands gripping the steering wheel tightly in an attempt to steady himself. With a sharp inhale of breath, he clutches the wheel even tighter. 

He’s sure that he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his entire life, and he’s sure that you’ve never rode the bus before. If you had, he would’ve remembered you. When you sit right behind him, face aligned perfectly with his mirror, he struggles to remain professional. It’s certainly going to be a challenge getting him to focus on the road instead of the beauty behind him.

“Paterson, are you alright?” A woman asks him, a regular on his bus. He smiles and nods at her, afraid to speak. If he does, he’s sure that his voice will quiver, revealing the true nature of his emotions. If only he had his journal, he could write something in hopes of capturing the true nature of your beauty. The man is nearly falling apart as he closes the door, simultaneously wanting more and wanting it to stop, so that he can focus on his job.

Paterson does his best to focus on driving the bus, but he often finds himself wanting to glance into the mirror. You’re so beautiful, every bit of you. The words are begging to be written on paper, ready to pour out of him and onto a page. Praying that you won’t catch him staring, he looks up. To his surprise, your eyes are on him, watching his own reflection through the mirror positioned over his head.

Your blush as you avert your attention to the window is certainly the most adorable thing that he’s ever seen, and he certainly can’t hide his smile at this point. He wonders why you were staring at him, but he isn’t complaining. It’s hard to believe that you could find him interesting, a simple bus driver. 

From the moment that you leave his bus, Paterson is antsy. The time is going by far too slow for his liking, and the only thing that he wants is to express himself the only way that he knows how– poetry.

That night, as soon as he gets off of work, he grabs his journal. For what feels like hours, he scribbles words, writing poetry about the girl who he’d seen on his bus. What was your story? Why had you been watching him? Pages were filled, his hand cramping up as he struggles to write everything that he could think of. He ends up falling asleep with the book clutched in his hands, leaning over his desk. 

The next day, Paterson hopes to see you. He is on edge, looking from person to person in hopes of finding you. Who knows, maybe he dreamt you up. Or maybe, it was a one time thing, and he will never see you again. He desperately wishes that it isn’t either of those two things, because he's sure that if he never sees you again, he will never know true beauty.

To his relief, you enter the bus. Looking beautiful as ever, you reclaim your spot perfectly in his sight. Paterson’s toothy grin is unmistakable, bright and wide as he prepares for another night spent writing poems about the beautiful girl on his bus.

He thanks his lucky stars when you enter the bus the next day, and the next. Soon, it becomes a routine, and he sees you on the daily. He couldn’t be more thankful to see someone, it’s as if his heart flutters every time that he’s brave enough to lay his eyes on you.

One day, however, when you enter, it’s later. The sun is setting, and he was beginning to worry that he wouldn’t see you at all. You step onto the bus, heels high and your shirt cut low, much lower than usual. He gulps, muttering a good evening to you as you step by. That was as far as he’d gotten, a few words spoken every day to the woman who had stolen his heart.

When you wink at him, he nearly gasps and pounces on you. Your eyes are mischievous as you speak your first words to him. “Good evening, Paterson.” You murmur, and he’s afraid that he might faint.

Needless to say, it’s a challenge for him to drive that night. His thoughts are a mess, and he aches for your touch, the feeling of your skin against his, but he can’t have it. It feels as if you might want him, too, but he’s afraid. It had to be a mistake, he had to be reading things wrong. Someone as perfect as you would never be interested in a boring bus driver.

That night, the poems come even easier than usual. They’re pure filth, describing his desire for your lips, the beautiful swell of your breasts under your shirt, and oh, how he aches to touch you. It’s shorter than usual, and it ends with his hand slipping into his pants, working himself to completion as he whines into the quiet air of his house. If only you could be here with him.

Things go on like that for awhile, continuing their steady and pleasant routine. He sees you, mumbles a hello, and he savors whatever he gets back. Some days it’s a greeting back, and others, just a smile, but he doesn’t mind. Paterson takes what he can get and savors it, the smile on his lips almost feels permanent now.

There is one day when it’s pouring out, and he wishes that you would just stay at home. He doesn’t want to see you soaked from the rain as you wait on the bus stop, he wants you warm and safe, wherever you live. He’s never stopped to consider if you had someone to keep you warm, and now that he’s thought of it, he wishes that he hadn’t.

“Good-” Before Paterson can wish you a good morning, you croak one of your own. Something isn’t right, he notices it immediately. Eyebrows furrowing, he watches you as you sit. Had he done something wrong? Were you just having a bad day? When he hears the soft sniffles, something breaks inside of him, and he wants nothing more than to take you back with him to his house, to keep you warm from the rain and make sure that you never have to cry again.

He drives more quickly than usual, and he hopes that no one will notice. Paterson never intends on hurting anyone, and he maintains a safe speed, but the pumping of his heart is undeniable. He is going to say something, and he is going to make sure that you feel better. It’s getting late, and you were headed home, but he's going to at least offer to take you back with him to his house. It’s the least that he could do. After all, you’re his muse.

When he parks at the last stop, he makes a gesture to you, signifying for you to wait one moment. You comply, and he’s beyond thankful that you’re going to allow him to plead his case. 

Soon, the bus is empty, and he swallows nervously, sitting across from you. “Hello. Uh, as you know, I’m Paterson, and I heard you... sniffling. I wanted to offer you an invitation to come to my home for a bit, so that I could attempt to make you feel better...” He’s rambling now, an embarrassing nervous habit from his past. 

However, you’re already nodding, standing up and taking his hand. His cheeks redden as you speak, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yes, Paterson, I’d love that. Thank you.” You murmur, introducing yourself.

When he hears your name, it’s as if something deep inside of him makes sense. Of course, you’d have such a beautiful name on top of everything, he should’ve expected that. You’re an angel from up above, and he doubts that there’s a single flaw to you. In his eyes, you’re absolutely perfect.

He drives you and the bus back to the depot, heart hammering relentlessly inside of his chest. He wonders if it’s all a dream, if he’s going to wake up and realize that it’s the next day, alone in his house with no one but Marvin. Speaking of, he was anxious for you to meet him. He certainly hoped that he’d behave, his dog always seemed to have a mind of his own.

Before he knows it, he’s pulling the bus into its spot, exhaling sharply. It’s going to be a real challenge keeping himself composed, he already feels his cheeks warming up as he helps you out of the bus. “I wish that it wasn’t raining.” He cringes, walking quickly through the horrible weather. In his mind, he’d imagined this moment being more bright and perfect, not the two of you running as it pours.

However, you don’t seem to mind. There’s a wide grin on your face as you run with him, hand clutching his. It’s impossible to hide now, he’s certainly a blushing mess, but he couldn’t care less. He’s having the time of his life, a loud laugh echoing throughout the street as he nears his house. There’s something inside of him that’s proud, proud for making you smile. You’d clearly been in a bad state of mind, and he was able to put you in a better mood.

“It’s not much, but here it is.” Paterson murmurs as he unlocks the door. The two of you stand in the doorway as you drip water onto the flooring. It isn’t long before Marvin is entering the room to check things out, barking at Paterson as if to say, “get out of my house”. 

“Sorry, that’s my dog, Marvin. He’s evil.” He grumbles.

You chuckle and kneel on the ground, letting him sniff you as you pet him, and Paterson’s jaw drops. Of course, Marvin would act like a completely different dog now that you’re here, rolling over and covering you in dog kisses.

“No, he’s not so bad.” You coo, scratching behind his ears, and Paterson is almost jealous of the attention that he’s getting. He should be the one getting loved on, not his ridiculous dog.

“Here, let me get you a blanket.” He murmurs, stepping into his living room to grab the softest one that he owns. Draping it over your shoulders delicately, he smiles to himself. There’s something about taking care of you that he loves, it makes him feel whole inside. “Can I make you some tea?” He asks, hand lingering on your shoulder for an extra moment.

“Please, that would be perfect.” You grin up at him, savoring the feeling of his large hand against your skin. There’s something so nice about it, the feeling of being here with him. The bus driver that you’d been crushing on for weeks had finally made a move, and here you were, enjoying every bit of it.

As soon as Paterson left the room, Marvin stood up and ran out. You pout, wondering where he’d ran off to in such a hurry. Your eyes wander as you look around the living room, smiling at how organized and orderly things were. Paterson likes things to be clean and where they belong, and it’s evident as you glance around the room.

Marvin reenters, a book in between his teeth. You gasp as he sets it down in your lap, panting as he sits across from you.

Curiously, you examine the book, finding the words “my muse” written on the front cover. Perhaps, you should put it down and not read, but maybe this was a sign? Maybe, Marvin had given it to you for a reason.

Carefully opening the book and reading through its pages, your eyes widen. It’s poetry, and you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seems to be about you. Everything written in its pages feels like it describes one of the times that you’d seen him on the bus, and your cheeks flush as you scan the pages. This must’ve taken a long time, and a lot of dedication.

You come across one page, and your jaw drops. It describes in detail just how Paterson felt as you’d winked at him, the arousal that he’d felt all through the way home. Chewing on your lip, you read it over and over, wondering if he’d really written all of this about you. Something snaps within you, and you’re eager to pounce on the man that you’d had feelings for.

Paterson unknowingly enters the room, cup of tea in hand. His heart sinks at the sight of you with his book in your hand, your cheeks flushed. Oh, you must be so disgusted with him. Only a creep would write that many stories about a woman that he’d rarely even spoken too, and you must have hated him by now. Setting the tea down, he heads over to you, a deep frown settling onto his face. “I’m so sorry, I can explain.”

But, he couldn’t have been more wrong about your reaction. Clutching the book in your arms, close to your chest, you beam at him. This was so flattering, so shocking to know that he’d actually felt the same about you. You carefully and lovingly place the book down on the table, taking the few steps over to Paterson to lessen the distance between you.

Wordlessly, you touch your lips to his, your smaller hand cupping his cheek gently. Paterson is nearly fainting at this point, absolutely certain that this is a dream. There is no way that the girl of his dreams has actually reached out to kiss him, a simple bus driver. He’s stiff and nervous, trying to kiss you back as he works on conquering his nerves.

“It’s okay, you can relax,” You giggle, hands settling onto his broad shoulders.

“Shoo, Marvin.” he mutters. He’s thankful that the dog actually complies for once.

it doesn’t take long before Paterson’s kissing you again, his hands removing the restrictive blanket from your shoulders so that he can run his hands along your back. All of this feels so surreal, almost too good to be true, and he plans on savoring every last bit of it. A soft moan leaves your lips and he nearly cries out, in awe of your beauty. He wants you so badly, he’s sure that he won’t even make it to the bedroom.

His hands slip around to your front, cupping your breasts over the thin material of your soaked shirt. Paterson’s dreamed about this moment over and over, the time when he’d finally get a chance to feel you. Now, it’s happening, and he never wants it to end. Actually, he’s certain that he won’t even make it to the couch.

With that, the two of you are (not so gracefully) falling to the floor of his living room, hands unable to get enough of each other. It’s evident that the two of you have wanted this for weeks, and he doesn’t plan on stopping any time soon. He wants to cry out, to fill you already, but he knows that he needs to go slow. Paterson needs to savor this moment and ensure that it goes perfectly, because he’s sure that if he messed this up, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Your smaller fingers work to unbutton his uniform, your lips parting with his as you try to catch your breath. “Paterson, I need you,” You murmur, leaning in to place soft kisses along the skin of his neck. He nearly breaks at that, using his strong arms to support himself as you work on removing his shirt. The two of you are so desperate to stay together that he doesn’t even remove the shirt. He prefers to let it dangle open, rather than pulling away to remove it completely.

A large hand easily tugs the material of your blouse away, exposing your bra. “I would’ve dressed nicer if I would have known-”

He quiets you with a soft “shh”, lowering his lips to your collarbone. “You look beautiful. I wouldn’t change anything.” He whispers honestly, meaning it with every fiber of his being. There’s something so perfect about this, the imperfection of it all. It wasn’t planned out, just an eager decision made by both of you, and for some reason, he loves it that much more.

His lips work their way down, and soon, he’s tugging your bra downwards, freeing both of your breasts. He looks down at them, lips parted as he watches you. There is nothing on earth that is more perfect than this, he’s sure of it. “So beautiful,” He speaks before wrapping his lips around the sensitive skin of your nipple, plush lips easily suckling the bud into his mouth. The sounds of your moans spur him on and rile him up, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to stop if you keep moaning like that.

After a few minutes, he decides that he needs to do something. You’re a writhing mess, begging for him, and who is he to deny you? Wrestling with the button on his jeans, he manages to free himself. Paterson wishes that he could take his time, making you cry out until you can’t anymore, but he just doesn’t have the patience today, and it appears as if you don’t either. Your lips are attached to his neck, begging him to fill you up, and he almost feels dizzy with pleasure. 

He can’t wait one more second. Lifting your skirt, he pushes your panties to the side, too eager for his own good. Your legs wrap around his waist, and Paterson is speechless. He always wants to write, to express his feelings for you, but now? They’re overwhelming, he doesn’t think that he could write down his feelings if he tried. Lining himself up with your entrance, he slowly pushes in.

The two of you cry out, foreheads pressed against each other’s as you hold on for dear life. He’s almost ashamed of how loud he is, rocking his hips slow and deep inside of you. His whines are loud and full of praise, doing everything in his power to make you feel good. “You’re so perfect, so good for me.” He moans, his free hand coming up to massage your breast. It’s too much too soon, and he knows that he won’t be able to last.

“I’m already close,” You warn, cupping his cheeks. His eyes are soft and warm, fluttering closed as he works his lips against yours. 

“Me... Me too.” Paterson grunts, thrusting at a quicker pace. He needs to bring you there first, he needs to see your face as you come, and he allows that to be his motivation as he fucks you harder against the rough carpet of his living room floor. Something about this is so filthy, so dirty, but it’s so right, and he’s going crazy for more at the mere thought of it.

With a loud moan of his name, you hit your climax, clenching around him. It feels amazing, like his own bit of heaven on earth as he bursts at the seams, rutting inside of you one last time. Paterson fills you up with his seed, head buried in your neck as he struggles to come back to reality. Maybe, there was no reality anymore. Whenever he was with you, he was in heaven, on cloud nine, somewhere where nothing could go wrong. Everything was perfect, and he never had to worry about being lost again. You were his home.

Now, the two of you lay on his living room floor. It’s a challenge to catch your breath, but when you do, you turn to look at Paterson. He’s grinning, eyes on you as he lays next to you. “I think that Marvin actually helped me out for once.” He chuckled, the lovely sound filling up the room.


End file.
